


His Captain

by barcelona (orphan_account)



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Cat AU, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/barcelona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerti is an old television box with the flaps cut like wings, and Martin and Douglas are a 7yr old Arthur's pet cats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Captain

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for meme prompt: [Here](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/3282.html?thread=4781010#cmt4781010).

Part ONE: His Captain

…

Cloudy days in Fitton usually meant rainy days in Fitton, and so Douglas sat worriedly atop the small children’s dresser, watching the skies with keen yellow eyes and flicking a silky black tail in anticipation. He could just about feel the rain already and desperately hoped it would wait an hour or two. That’s all he needed, that’s all they needed.

“Do you think it’ll rain soon?” the domestic longhair wondered aloud.

“Oh god, I hope so,” came the meek reply from below.

“Stop being such a mouse, Martin,” Douglas stood at the edge of the dresser and looked down at the floor, “You can’t hide forever.”

“You wanna bet?” echoed out from under the dresser.

“Do you?” because honestly that never ended well.

“No.”

Douglas sighed and landed with a soft thud, the tag on his collar clinking on the wood as he ducked and peered under the furniture piece.

Huddled in the furthest, darkest corner was the orange blotted Cornish Rex known as Martin, occasionally Skip, Skipper, and “Aye, aye captain!” None of which he was especially appreciative of, but while Douglas could intimidate with his size, Martin’s own runt-stature often meant arguing with others only enhanced his gawky image.

“Come on Martin,” Douglas encouraged, “a plane can’t fly without her captain.”

“I’m-I’m not a _captain_ ,” Martin bristled, “I’m a show cat!”

“Mr. Crieff differed, isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Shut up,” Martin hissed before he turned into the corner and begun to ignore the older cat.

Douglas hefted another sigh, as one tended to do when dealing with the two year old, and sat back on his haunches. He briefly debated apologizing, knowing that while he considered himself lucky, having spent his first three years of life going back and forth from home to shelter (and the last two in the Shappey household), Martin thought the free passing of a purebred like himself to be an insult.

_There’s nothing wrong with me, I’m just a little smaller than the others!_

That still didn’t excuse the tom from his prissy behavior, however, nor the predominant sense of pride that on more than a daily basis caused Douglas great irritation. Why he put up with such a stickler the longhair didn’t know, but Martin was there, had been for nearly a year, and it didn’t look like he was leaving anytime soon. So until that changed, Douglas thought Martin could at least act like a better cat.

“Alright,” Douglas conceded, crouching down again, “You’re a show cat, now how about you pretend to be a housecat?”

Martin glared at Douglas over his curled form, and Douglas looked at him pointedly. Folding his ears back, Martin huffed and lowered his head again. With his third sigh in as many minutes, Douglas sat back again and was about to think of a way to coax the Rex out, when his ears perked at the sound of a bus slowing.

Leaping to the dresser, Douglas smiled when he saw a familiar figure break from the departing children and run straight for the house.

A creaky screen door, a few clunky steps, and the bedroom door burst open to let in an Arthur who immediately belly-flopped his bed. Douglas stood on the edge with one paw raised eagerly, as the young boy sat upright, his face alight with laughter under the leather pilot’s cap (a gift from his father) he never seemed to be without.

“There you are, Douglas!” Arthur bounced off his bed and lifted the black cat from the dresser, much to the feline’s delight, stroking his head and eliciting a fine purr, “Best get you started on the walk ‘round, it’s a brilliant passenger today.”

Douglas stayed by Arthur’s feet as the child struggled with the closet handle before managing to pull it open. Immediately the large television box slid out, knocking Arthur to the floor, his head sticking through the bottom cut-out, cap knocked sideways and brown curls messed.

“Wow,” Arthur turned excitedly to the curious cat beside him, “guess G-ERTi wants to fly too!”

Arthur pushed the cardboard box off his shoulders, careful of the taped on wings. A new teley in his father’s study had gifted Arthur the most brilliant thing of all – an aeroplane. With a little help from his mother, some markers, and a lot of tape, the box transformed into G-ERTi (after his late goldfish, and written on the wing), apparently a Lockheed McDonell 12.

While his father had tried to tell him it was just a silly old box, Arthur had enthusiastically replied, “Well it was, but it’s my jet now!” and so little Arthur Shappey became Arthur Shappey of MJN Air.

And for the last two weeks the child had wanted nothing more than to get in G-ERTi and fly across the world. Though you can’t fly a plane with just one person, so Arthur had recruited the two best pilots he knew: Douglas and Martin.

Douglas was the first officer, with his title neatly printed on a blue paper hat, while Martin was the captain and donned a white hat with gold scribbles all across it. The thing looked utterly ridiculous, even to a cat, but Arthur thought it brilliantly noble and respect worthy.

This, on top of the mass amount of turbulence usually experienced on “flights”, had Martin hiding at a quarter past three for the last seven days.

“Pss pss pss, here kitty, kitty, come on Skip! Look, I saved you some biscuits from lunch, though they’re all a bit crumbly now.”

Martin didn’t look impressed at the handful of dissolving biscuit on the floor and Arthur frowned, “Well alright, but Douglas and I are going to have loads of fun! You don’t want to miss that do you?”

With a flick of his tail, Martin put his head back down, causing Arthur to pout before the child was struck with an idea and sprung to his feet, scooping Douglas off the bed and into G-ERTi.

Arthur slipped his legs through the bottom hole and pulled the box up to his hips, bouncing the black cat about, who somehow kept hold of his hat, “The captain’s gotten into trouble Douglas! He’s come down with a strange South ‘Merican disease, we best hurry and get the cure from Gulamalla!”

A determined lick of his lips and Arthur pulled the plastic red aviator goggles down on over his face, “Hold on Douglas! Tur’blence ahead!”

With a cry of, “Vrrrrrrrr!” Arthur shot off through his door while Douglas gripped the box tightly from his front seat, fighting to stay in when the boy hit the stairs and missed the last two steps before almost slipping on the rug. Miraculously still balanced, Arthur raced for the back door and freedom, but as he passed the sofa his cap was swiped from his head.

Bringing a halt to operations just before he slammed into the glass door, Arthur patted down his curls, searching for his missing equipment before he turned to see a rather pointed looking Carolyn with the thing dangling from her finger.

“And where do you think you’re going, Arthur?”

“Gulamalla! We’ve got to save Skip, he’s sick and can’t fly.”

“Well, if you’d take two minutes from torturing your poor cats you’d see that it is in fact raining, and therefore takeoff has been delayed.”

Arthur turned expectantly. Douglas watched as the boy’s face became crestfallen, and then Arthur looked pleadingly up at his mother. Carolyn sighed and leaned forward, placing her son’s hat snugly back on his head, “Perhaps our valiant captain might feel better with some hot chocolate and cookies?”

“Can I have some too?”

Carolyn laughed, “Of course, Arthur, now come on.”

A few minutes later and Arthur returned to his room sans G-ERTi and carrying half a mug of hot chocolate and a small plate of fresh cookies. Douglas trailed behind through the door, his hat having been lost at some point on the steps.

As he padded into the room, Douglas saw that Martin had come out of his hidey hole and was sat up by the rain tinted window, a triumphant look about him as he caught Douglas’ eye. The longhair pulled his ears back in disapproval, but Martin had already turned his attention towards the approaching child and meowed expectantly.

With a toothy grin, Arthur set the food down and ran a hand over the Rex’s curved spine, “Feel better, Skip?”

Martin purred happily under the ministrations of his child and Douglas decided to join them on the dresser.

“You didn’t eat your biscuits,” Arthur noticed, feeling the things crumble between his toes. Martin couldn’t be bothered to pay attention, however, as his nose twitched and moved curiously towards the dark blue mug, “I don’t know if you’ll like that, it’s not like milk at all!”

This didn’t hinder Martin, and soon his head had disappeared beneath the lip, the sounds of his lapping sounding funny as they worked their way around his ears.

“You’re lucky mum doesn’t see that,” Arthur smiled and petted Douglas, “and you’re lucky she doesn’t see you with everything else.”

Douglas made a soft sound, and Martin sat up, licking his lips. Douglas didn’t hide the smug look upon his face, and if cat’s could blush Martin would’ve turned pink.

“Dad’s home!” Arthur suddenly called, slamming his hands on the desk, causing both cats to jump, though they didn’t have long to recover when Arthur suddenly ran for the door. Bounding after their master, Martin got tangled in his own spindly legs, slamming into Douglas when the older cat suddenly stopped.

Martin gave a small hiss of protest before registering why they had stopped.

Arthur sat crouched behind the banister, peering down at the rain drenched man on the mat. Both cats poked their heads through the railing curiously, and Martin observed, “He looks in a mood.”

Douglas hummed his agreement, and Arthur just watched carefully as Gordon pulled a yellow envelope from the middle of the bunch he held, reading over the front once before making a most unfriendly sound and storming towards the kitchen, “Carolyn!”

The two felines turned their attention back to Arthur, whose grip on the banister tightened; bracing for what he knew came next.

The child didn’t have to wait long before he could hear angry mumbles drift through the hall. The tone and volume were all too familiar; they were trying to keep Arthur from hearing. Then there was a loud slam, a pot, and all three jumped back as Carolyn’s voice and Gordon’s tried to match her before they both hushed back into the mumble, but Arthur had made out enough.

Something about money, special schooling, Arthur.

Arthur looked down at his feet, they were always arguing about him. Well not always, but most days. Arthur tried not to hear, but sometimes they were so loud…

“Arthur-“ Martin meowed when the boy suddenly got up and ran back into his room, leaving a confused and worried pair of cats by the steps.

“Those idiots,” Douglas growled before moving to follow Arthur, Martin close behind. The larger cat nudged the slightly ajar door open and slipped his head in.

Arthur lay face down on his bunk bed, Brilliant, one for me and one for Douglas, his pillow pulled over his head.

Even without feline hearing, anyone would’ve heard the quiet sobs.

“Oh,” Martin said gently when he finally got the door open enough to see.

Douglas slowly made his way to the bed and bounded effortlessly to the head. Carefully, Douglas worked his way around the pillow to Arthur’s right and meowed worriedly before nudging the child’s elbow. Arthur flinched away with a hitch and gripped the pillow tighter, forcing his face deep into the mattress.

The longhair felt disheartened by Arthur’s reaction, it was a bad day.

Looking over the boy, Douglas resisted growling when he couldn’t spot Martin on the floor.

_Fool’s hiding again._

_Let him._

With a huff, Douglas managed to push Arthur’s arm up enough so he could curl at the shaking child’s side, trying to offer any comfort he could. Shortly after, however, there was a distinct crinkle from the other side of the bed, and both boy and cat lifted their heads in curiosity.

Bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks curled into a bright smile as Martin lifted a paw and meowed expectantly, his paper captain’s hat with its gold marker crest sat at Arthur’s elbow on the bed.

There was a large sniffle as Arthur sat up and wiped his nose on his sleeve, then he picked up Martin’s hat and set it properly atop the Rex’s head. Martin swished his tail, but didn’t fuss and instead nudged Arthur’s hand before it got too far away. The boy laughed and scratched Martin’s cheek.

Then the two felines were forced breathless as they found themselves swept into a hug, Arthur burying his face in their soft fur, "Everything will work out, so long as we got MJN."

“You were right Martin,” Douglas purred despite the dribble and snot the boy was dripping on them.

“I’m sorry, what?” Martin teased.

“You heard me,” the longhair warned.

“What was I right about, exactly?”

“You’re not a captain,” Martin seemed to swell before confusion crossed him, and Douglas chuckled, “You’re _his_ captain.”

End.

**Author's Note:**

> _Might post the rest of oneshots I wrote for this AU, but for now consider it complete._


End file.
